


Had things been different

by DmitriMolotov



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Brutal Murder, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, MAG080 canon divergent, Mild Language, Paranoia, and for Tim to vent some frustration, just an excuse for me to write Elias monologues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24177391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DmitriMolotov/pseuds/DmitriMolotov
Summary: Tim and Martin find themselves finally free of the strange corridors they'd been wandering, only to wind up in a new hell, catching a killer red-handed. Tim finally gets to let his boss know how he really feels.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 85





	Had things been different

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday Lucky! Enjoy your boy cutting sick.

Tim pressed the record button on the tape recorder for what felt like the thousandth time. There was a good chance that wasn’t even hyperbole. This time, as the corridors around them twisted and changed again, it shuddered to life. “I think it’s working again!” 

“Tim, where _were_ we?” Martin asked, looking back the way they’d come to now see only the familiar hallways of the Magnus Institute Archives. 

Tim was too focused on the tape to notice. “Yeah… yeah, it’s recording.”

“Forget the bloody tapes, Tim! Are we sure this is… this is here?”

“Yes,” he replied with a resolute certainty. “Because the tape works now.”

Martin breathed a small sigh of relief before his eyebrows furrowed again. “How long was it?”

Tim shook his head. “I don’t know. And I don’t care.”

Martin stopped and looked at him in bewilderment. “Sorry? Sorry, what? How can you not care!?”

“Because this is us now.” He’d long since resigned himself to the fact that nothing would be the same between them after what they’d been through and he held his arms out to gesture around them. “Worms. Monsters. Corridors. They’ll keep happening until one of them kills us, and we’ve just got to deal with it.” Tim paused and dragged both hands down his face. He sighed. “Any sign of the woman?”

Martin looked around, but the corridors they’d been in were clearly not there anymore, and there was no sign of anyone else in the empty hallways of the Archives. “I don’t think so. We should have helped her,” he added, remorsefully.

“No.” Tim said simply.

“But we could have tried!”

“How?”

Martin chewed his lip, and looked away, silent. 

Tim gave it a moment to sink in, staring at him intensely until Martin finally raised his eyes to meet his. “Look. There’s no point talking about it. It happened. I hope it doesn’t happen again. Statement fucking ends.” Tim started walking down the hall towards what he hoped was still the way out of the Archives. 

Martin followed quietly behind for a while before finally speaking up. “We… we should look for Jon. Maybe we can still help.”

“It’s probably already killed him.” The words were out of his mouth before he realised how cruel they were and he was glad to be walking ahead so that Martin couldn’t see the way he cringed at his own words.

“Don’t joke about that, okay?” Martin’s reply was shaky and Tim instantly felt even worse. 

“Fine,” Tim muttered sullenly.

“Tim!” Martin practically barked at him, making Tim jump slightly.

“Try his office.” Tim pointed up ahead to the office door.

Martin glared, but ultimately concern for Jon won out. “Yeah. Right.” 

As they quickly made their way to his office, a steady, dull thump seemed to grow louder.

“Do you hear that?” Martin asked.

Tim quickly took the lead, pushing past Martin to open the door, finding it locked. 

The sound was undoubtedly coming from inside. Tim backed up halfway across the hall. 

“Tim what are you-?” Martin started, taking a surprised step back as Tim threw himself, shoulder first into the door. The door burst open, splinters shattering from the wood around the lock and Tim had to stop himself from toppling forward.

Standing next to Jon’s desk, holding a heavy-looking, bloodied pipe, was Elias. At his feet, was the broken and bloodied remains of an old man. 

“Oh my god!” Martin found his voice first, as Tim stared in open-mouthed horror still trying to make sense of what he was seeing. “I-is he…?”

“Dead?” Elias interrupted, expectantly. “Yes, I’m afraid. Very much so.”

“What the actual fuck, Elias?” Tim said finally. 

“Did you…?” Martin started, but again, Elias preempted and cut him off.

“Yes. It was necessary. Self defence.”

Tim scoffed. “Self defence? We’re supposed to believe that are we?”

“What other motivation could I possibly have?” Elias asked matter of factly.

Tim’s face was still plastered with disbelief. “You beat him to death with a pipe! He looks about 80, what was he going to do, read you to death?!”

Elias barely suppressed a smirk. “…You’d be surprised.”

Tim shook his head. “This is ridiculous – I’m calling the police.”

“Wait, where’s Jon?” Martin asked, a different brand of alarm suddenly fixing itself on his face.

“Where indeed, Martin?” Elias purred back at him, something almost caustic in his voice.

“Oh god, Jon!” Martin was almost out the door before Tim could protest.

Tim huffed, but kept an eye on Elias. “Where _is_ Jon?”

“Oh don’t act as if you’re really worried about him. Besides, he just stepped out for a cigarette,” Elias laughed mirthlessly. “Someone really should have told him that smoking kills.” Elias let out a sigh and put the pipe down on Jon’s desk, taking out a handkerchief and wiping the end he’d been holding down carefully. “I really am very sorry you had to see this, Tim.”

“Yeah, really sorry you got caught, I’ll bet. Not as sorry as you’ll be when the police arrive,” Tim replied, taking out his phone and scowling at the icon indicating ‘no signal’. “Shit.” The reception was always terrible inside Jon’s office, he turned to move back to the door, pointing back at Elias. “Don’t move.” 

Elias’s lips twisted into a cruel grin. “Wouldn't dream of it, Tim. It’ll be just like the last night you saw Danny.”

Tim’s blood ran cold and he froze in his tracks. “What did you say?”

“Mmm…” Elias hummed. “Didn't think anyone else knew about that, did you? Only Sasha. The real reason you joined the Institute. You didn’t move though, did you? Oh but you _couldn’t_ , is that right? Something was holding you in place. Or was it that you were just _scared?_ Immobilised by fear. The Stranger will do that to you…”

Tim felt his heart stutter step in his chest as emotions warred within him.

Elias continued, mercilessly. “It must pain you to know. That there’s been one of them under your nose this whole time and you had no idea. Masquerading as a friend no less. You didn’t even notice when they took Sasha - replaced her with the farce that wore her face. You do know how long it’s been, don’t you? Since Sasha wasn’t Sasha?”

“Shut up!”

Elias smirked. “That’s always what you want isn’t it? For everyone to just stop talking. Or do you? Perhaps it’s just easier this way - if you don’t want to talk to anyone, it makes it easier when no one wants to talk to you. Jon’s out of the question lest you want to be met with paranoia and suspicion. Martin, well, let’s face it, Martin is too concerned with Jon’s wellbeing to really focus on yours, and that just leaves Sasha and she hasn’t been the same since ...Prentiss’ attack on the institute. You knew something was wrong but you couldn’t put your finger on what. You’ve been too caught up in your own suffering, in Jon’s paranoia, in how you can’t quit this job. You couldn’t even recognise the one person you trusted to tell about what happened to your brother. The one person with whom you truly thought you could make it work. And now even if she were standing in front of you, exactly as she was before, you wouldn’t be able to recognise her. All memory, all evidence of who she was before is gone. But regardless, you were fooling yourself from the start. No one loves you like that, Tim. You’re a harlot. Everyone wants you but no one loves you. No one since Danny.”

Tim shook more with every word that passed Elias’s lips as he clenched his teeth and bared them. “Fuck. You.” 

“And there it is again. That rage you think will mask your fear and pain. You think it will make up for the fact that you don’t remember when you seriously stopped looking for ways to avenge your brother and just ...got comfortable. Now, in the Archives, things are different but you’re still just an _unpredictable_ , angry man with nothing left but the desire to feel in some way revenged.”

 _Unpredictable._ Something about the way Elias had said it with such disdain made the word stick and it clicked.

Tim laughed, low and dangerous and with no trace of humour in it. “Well, you got that part right.” 

Tim let go. Dropped any hint of restraint or inhibition and forgot the fear that held him in place. He lunged at Elias, and for the briefest, most satisfying moment, Tim caught a glimpse of genuine surprise and _fear_ cross Elias’ face. His forearm struck high on Elias’s chest and he staggered backwards, caught off-guard enough to only manage to flail in retaliation as Tim laid into him, hit after hit, each one making Elias lurch backwards with the force. 

“This one’s for Danny.” Tim landed a solid punch to Elias’s solar plexus, making him fold nearly double and gasp for breath. “This one’s for Sasha.” He swung a hard left hook into his cheekbone, snapping his head sideways and surely dislodging a few teeth. “And this one? This one’s for me.” His fist connected hard with the bridge of Elias’s nose, blood spurting from it and his eyes tearing up instantly as his head snapped backwards and finally he managed to hold up his hands defensively, cowering and begging Tim to stop.

Tim had to admit there was a sense of satisfaction there. He picked up the pipe from the table and swung it into his hand with a threatening thunk. 

“Stop!” Spitting a mouthful of blood and spit and teeth, Elias managed to stammer out: “if you kill me, you die with me, along with the rest of the Institute.”

Tim just smirked and shook his head. _“I don’t care.”_

“Tim, stop!” Jon yelled from the doorway, Martin on his phone a little ways behind him. “The police are coming, don’t put yourself in any more trouble, please.”

Tim glared at Elias, weighing the decision in his mind. 

“Tim, he’s not worth it,” Jon said.

He was right. He wasn’t worth it. He sighed and stepped back, dropping the pipe onto the floor by the door, well out of reach of where Elias was leaning against Jon’s desk, trying to recover. 

“Tim,” Jon said gently, seeing the look on his face clearly for the first time. “Tim it’s ok.”

“No, Jon, it isn’t. It’s not ok, _nothing_ is ok!” Tim was still shaking, looking down to see his knuckles were bloodied, not sure how much was his own. He gestured to Elias, now slumped in Jon’s chair, using his handkerchief to wipe blood from his mouth, holding the bridge of his nose with his other hand. “How does he know everything?”

Jon seemed to pale at that. He turned and walked out to the hallway to where Martin was and Tim followed. “It’s a long story,” he said quietly. 

“I have time,” Tim snapped.

“Not really,” Martin interrupted, one hand over the mouthpiece of his phone. “The police are on their way.”

“Talk fast then.”

“Tim I-” Jon started, in that tone that suggested he wasn’t going to get any real answers out of him.

“No, I don’t want any of your placating nonsense. I just-” Tim took a steadying breath and his tone softened- “I just want to _talk_ like we used to. God, it’s been so long since we’ve just talked. You’re _not_ ok, Jon. _I’m_ not ok. Martin’s been desperately trying to hold everything together, pretend like things are normal and _Sasha…_ ” At her name, Jon looked as if he was about to fall to pieces. Tim supposed he did too. “...If we just _talked_. Checked in with each other, actually asked each other what was going on instead of snooping around and playing office politics and fucking _suspecting each other of murder_ -”

“I-I am sorry about that,” Jon said under his breath.

“- yeah, well then maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Tim sighed and leaned his back against the wall. Jon studied the floor for a long while. Martin still had an ear to his phone and every now and then would make a noise of confirmation or give a street name or some other detail, but for the most part, his expression suggested he was following the conversation.

“Ask her to direct them to the Head Archivist’s office, thank you.” Martin hung up the phone. “They’re here. They’re on their way down now.”

Jon gave a curt nod. Tim just shrugged and sighed again.

“I miss you.” Tim said finally. “Both of you.” 

“Oh, Tim…” Martin started.

Jon winced. “God, Tim, I’m so sorry, I’ve been awful.”

“Yeah, you have been.” Tim replied with a sigh but no malice. “I just wish things could have been different. I wish you’d just asked me about why I’d joined the institute, rather than trying to investigate me. I wish we could’ve talked about _things_ . Stuff. Life. God, I’d even take talking about the weird way the worm scars healed, share something about it, just to feel more, I dunno, _human_ . I wish we didn't all have to suffer in silence because there's no good reason for it. And I know after a point it was my fault too. Once I knew you didn’t trust us, I stopped trusting you. And I mean, fair, you know? But still… I think at one stage I was even getting mad on behalf of Martin. I can’t believe you could accuse him for a second of being anything but loyal to you. I mean, have you _seen_ the way he looks at you, Jon?” Tim gestured to Martin, whose expression mirrored a deer in headlights.

Jon looked at Tim, confused, then to Martin, as a deep blush crept onto his face and he quickly looked at his shoes. 

Tim spared them further embarrassment by continuing. “I know we can’t go back to how it was before, back when we were all in research together and before any of this Archives stuff started. Whatever weird stuff is happening to us, all we have is each other. But maybe… maybe that’s enough. I hope it is anyway.”

A moment of silence passed between them. Jon opened his mouth to say something, but the stern, deep voice of a police officer echoed down the hall. “Down here? Thank you very much.”

“I promise, after this I’ll explain everything,” Jon said. “And we’ll talk. Really talk.”

“Good,” Tim said, “because I’m not letting this go. We are going to be friends once this is all over, come hell or high water.”

They all chuckled a little at that, and for once it felt like maybe, just maybe things would be ok. 

The police wasted no time, one of them pointing towards the door to Jon’s office. “Suspect’s in here?”

They all nodded and two officers went in, followed by a pair of what looked like medical responders, another officer remaining with the trio at the door. 

“And you said his name was Elias Bouchard?”

Jon nodded. “Yes, he’s the head of the institute. The victim is uh… Leitner. Jurgen Leitner.”

Tim shot a surprised look at Martin, eyes wide. Martin raised his eyebrows in return indicating he’d been just as surprised to learn. 

Inside the room they heard the crackle of radio, followed by low voices before one of the officers appeared in the doorway, shaking her head. “Room’s empty, just the body in here.”

Tim, Jon and Martin exchanged looks. 

Jon sighed heavily. 

“Shit.”


End file.
